


but i don't think i can ever learn how to love just right

by brookethenerd



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 03:45:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookethenerd/pseuds/brookethenerd
Summary: au in which neil gets tired of the ‘we’re nothing’ game and decides to stop playing





	but i don't think i can ever learn how to love just right

It isn’t much of a surprise when one of the foxes gets hurt on the court. While running drills, they’re often teamed up against each other, working of defensive and offensive maneuvers. And while they don’t mean to hurt each other, Exy is a violent sport, and accidents happen. Most of the time they’re accidents, at least.

Today’s incident is a legitimate accident; in a scuffle for the ball, the handle of Dan’s racket catches Neil’s helmet, tugging it off and sending him crashing to the floor. She fawns over him with apologies, helping him back to his feet, ignoring his attempts to wave her off.

He’s only been on his feet for two seconds when Andrew pushes through, tipping his chin up with a finger, likely to get the bleeding to stop.

“I’m sorry, Neil, I swear-“ Dan exclaims, peering around Andrew, who, though tiny, still manages to take up a huge amount of space in front of Neil.

“It’s okay. Really,” He says.

“Your nose is broken,” Andrew says.

“Hell, Dan. Remind me not to piss you off,” Nicky says, a teasing smile on his lips. Matt shoots him a look, to which Dan crinkles her nose, grip tightening on her racket.

“You _know_ -“

“He’s screwing with you, Dan,” Matt says.

“I know you aren’t possibly done. Not when that clock shows twenty more minutes!” Wymack calls from his place in the stands. Dan turns to look at him, waving her racket.

“Dan tried to kill Neil!” Nicky yells.

“ _Nicky_ ,” Dan snaps. He smiles innocently, and pulls his helmet back on. The others follow, save for Neil and Andrew.

Andrew’s fingers wrap around Neil’s arm, and he pulls him toward the door; Wymack must be able to see the blood from here, or just doesn’t want to get in Andrew’s way, because he lets them leave the court without a word.

Andrew lets go of Neil when they get into the locker room. When Andrew gives him a light shove toward the bench, Neil drops down onto it, pinching his nose to stop it from bleeding.

A moment later, Andrew returns from Abby’s office with some gauze and a bottle of aspirin; Neil is almost surprised that Andrew managed to find it, seeing as Abby keeps all the pain meds hidden and locked away. But, then again, it is Andrew, so he shouldn’t be surprised in the least.

Andrew sits down on the bench beside him, and Neil turns so he’s straddling it, facing Andrew.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Neil says. Andrew rips off some gauze, and presses it to Neil’s nose. Neil flinches, sucking in a breath. Andrew’s brows arch in amusement, and Neil makes a face.

“Fine. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

Andrew’s hand comes up, a thumb brushing along the bottom of Neil’s left eye.

“You’re probably gonna have a black eye,” He says, fingers skating across Neil’s skin, checking for further injury.

“I’ve had worse,” Neil says. Andrew’s hand goes still, and a slight crease appears between his brows.

He doesn’t say anything, hand dropping to his lap, and Neil knows he’s gone too far. He opens the pill bottle, and shakes a few into his palm, handing them to Neil, who swallows them dry.

One of Andrew’s touchy spots is Evermore and the night Neil spent with his father’s people. He’s only ever talked to Neil about it once, but Neil could see how much it affected Andrew; how Andrew was desperate to get him back, to know that he was okay.

Andrew isn’t one for jokes as it is, and jokes about Neil’s worst memories are liked even less.

Andrew stands up, leaving the gauze in front of Neil, and disappears, likely returning Abby’s meds so she doesn’t notice they’ve been tampered with. Instead of waiting for him to get back, Neil follows, and watches from the doorway as Andrew stretches up on his tippy toes to try and put the bottle back on top of the cabinet.

Neil’s lips curl up in a tiny smirk, and he comes to stand beside Andrew, taking the bottle away and setting it where it goes, having a few inches of advantage on Andrew.

“I bet Abby has a step stool somewhere,” Neil says, one of his rare attempts at a joke.

It’s misplaced, though, seeing as he’s with Andrew. Andrew narrows his eyes slightly.

“I hate you,” he says halfheartedly, the words empty, as they have become as they’ve become completely untrue.

“No, actually, you don’t,” Neil says, a hint of irritation in his voice, heading back for the locker room to grab his gauze and dab at his nose.

It isn’t that Neil doesn’t know that Andrew cares about him. He knows that he does.

Sometimes he wishes that once, just once, Andrew would acknowledge it. Sometimes, he wishes Andrew could look him in the eye and tell him he’s something more than nothing.

But again, this is Andrew, and he loves him for who he is, not who he wants him to be. Even if who he is drives him mad sometimes.

Andrew follows him back, and stands against the lockers, arms crossed.

“If it is true, you have a really horrible way of showing it. You’re going to confuse people,” Neil says bitterly.

“I don’t care how anyone interprets it.”

“You care what I think.”

“No,” Andrew says, “I don’t.”

“You’re infuriating,” Neil says.

“Look at you using big words.”

Neil gives him a withering look, starting to pull his gear off. His body aches, and he knows he’s going to be sore, but he’s grateful that the only lasting wound from today’s practice will be his nose.

The two get out of their practice gear silently. Once Neil’s is tucked into his locker and he’s back in sweats and a tee shirt, he tosses the bloody gauze and tilts his head back once more, making sure the last of the blood is gone.

When he drops his head again, he finds Andrew standing in front of him. One of Andrew’s hands drops to Neil’s waist, slipping beneath his tee shirt and settling right above his hip bone, pushing Neil back into the lockers.

He’s nearly kissing him when Neil’s brain turns back on, and he remembers that he’s irritated with Andrew right now.

He turns his head, hands coming up to push him away, and Andrew steps back at the obvious _no_.

That’s one thing that Neil really likes about Andrew; these days, he’s completely into consent. He doesn’t push when he can see Neil doesn’t want it.

Andrew shifts back slightly, the confusion evident in his eyes; only really evident because Neil knows what every emotion looks like in Andrew’s eyes.

“Someone’s in a mood.” He says, almost amused. Neil steps to the side, pulling away from Andrew, arms coming up and crossing against his chest, acting as a barrier between them.

“You tell someone they’re nothing enough times, they’re gonna start to believe it. It’s how people work.”

“You taking Psychology this semester?” Andrew asks, still treating this as a game, the way he treats most things. Neil shakes his head, moving past him, gathering his things in his bag. He’s about to sling it over his shoulder when Andrew’s hand closes around the sleeve of his shirt. Neil turns to look at him, backpack falling to the ground. Andrew’s eyes settle on Neil’s, lips set in a thin line.

“Since when does it matter?” Andrew asks.

“Everything matters when it comes to you. You know that. Even though it isn’t the same for you.” Neil retorts.

“Do I know that?”

Neil shrugs, jaw clenched.

“You’re not stupid.”

Andrew doesn’t say anything for so long Neil knows he isn’t going to. Not in the mood to deal with his indifference today, he grabs his backpack from the ground, and pulls it over his shoulders. He shuts his locker, knowing that the rest of the Foxes will be back in a few minutes, and quickly starts for the door. He doesn’t hesitate as he leaves the locker room, and Andrew doesn’t stop him.

* * *

 

He’s roughly shaken awake from a nap an hour later, almost surprised to find himself sprawled across his bed in he and Andrew’s room. He doesn’t remember the walk back, only the relief he felt when he climbed on top of his mattress. He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, looking up to find Andrew standing beside his bed, arms at his sides, hands curled into fists. His gaze settles on his bare wrists, which are always covered by black bands save for when he goes to bed.

Neil doesn’t know why they’re off right now. He’s not sure if he cares right now, either.

“You were wrong earlier.” Andrew says. Neil swings his legs over the edge, and watches as Andrew sits down on the edge of his own bed, their knees nearly touching.

“About?”

Andrew’s gaze flicks to the black bands sitting on the bedside table, then to Neil’s eyes, and back to the bands, where they stay.

“If you’re just gonna sit here and bullshit, I’m going to go out and get something to eat.” Neil says.

“It isn’t nothing.” Andrew says after a moment, gaze still on the black bands.

Neil waits for him to continue, and after a beat, Andrew does.

“This. We aren’t nothing.” He says. The words come out slowly, and almost painfully, like they’re sticking to Andrew’s teeth and he has to force them out.

Neil’s brows pull together, and Andrew finally looks at him.

“It’s everything.” He says.

For a moment, neither of them moves. Then Neil is pushing off of his bed, and Andrew is grabbing him by the fabric of his shirt and tugging him against him, and their lips are smashing together, and Neil knows he was telling the truth, Neil knows Andrew believes it.

Everything. They are everything.


End file.
